The Pitfalls of Dating While Bi

By Bernie Marchand

March 12, 2020

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Photo credit: Bigstock/fizkes

We live in a heteronormative culture where if you walk out the door presenting as one gender, people around you assume you are going to date the opposite gender. As a cis woman over the age of 30, most people assume I am either married to a man, dating a man, or crying myself to sleep every night praying for the loving embrace of a man. I sleep just fine, thank you very much.

How has this impacted my experience dating as a bisexual? It makes me want to even the odds. I have a higher probability of meeting an opposite-sex person in my everyday life, so I focus on same-sex dating. It’s hard enough to find someone who has a job, isn’t an addict, and is ready for a relationship — let alone someone who identifies as queer. A 2018 Gallup poll reported 4.5% of Americans identify as LGBTI. 4.5%! All of the queer community! As a single bi, those numbers don’t bring the warm fuzzies. So I put more energy into finding the woman of my dreams.

Two multi ethnic attractive women, holding hands at a nice coffee shop table together, laughing together at a joke.
Wayhome Studio/istock

All joking and amateur statistics aside, the realities of bi dating can be difficult. Biphobia is real. I have experienced it with both men and women. With women, I felt the need to “prove” my bisexuality. On first dates, I have been asked completely inappropriate questions about my sex life in order for the other person to evaluate my gayness. I either get grilled about my dating history, or I don’t set any boundaries, and the relationship moves too quickly. I dated a lovely woman who wanted to move across the country together after four dates. Even though this was a giant red flag, it took me weeks to end it. Now, this could be due to a lot of factors, which I’ll talk about later, but biphobia played a role. The pressure to prove myself won out against my better judgment of ending an unhealthy relationship.

My experiences with men have been a little different. It’s probably not a surprise to hear that as a woman, men tend to be more accepting of my bisexuality — to an extreme. The fetishization of bi women is real. I’m seen as a one-way ticket to the orgy tent at Burning Man. While this hasn’t been true of every man, out of the last five men I dated, four of them asked me about threesomes. And hey, if it’s going to be a stereotype, might as well have some fun with it. Who hasn’t fantasized or enjoyed a good threesome? I’m sex-positive, but it’s frustrating to be reduced to my sexuality. There are times I feel like a checkmark on some creep's checklist — bi chick? Check.

From both men and women, I’ve heard stories featuring a classic villain — the cheating bisexual. And then I’m asked, have I ever cheated? Ya know what I love doing on a first date? Having my loyalty questioned by a complete stranger.

Finally, I had to get to the bottom of this nonsense. I asked the lesbian I was with why this is such a concern, and she confessed that she feels sexually inadequate compared to a man. And I have heard men express similar fears — fears that they will not make the cut emotionally. While these are unfortunate and sad opinions, they are just that, opinions. There are plenty of sexually satisfied gay couples out there and emotionally profound straight couples. Sometimes, people cheat, but that could happen in any relationship for any reason — it’s not unique to bi people. And jealous behavior is a reflection of that person’s insecurity.

And that’s the real heart of the issue. Biphobia is a result of insecurity, and my experiences dating reflect a lot of insecurity. Many people in the LGBTI community deal with repressed shame. Even as an outspoken, proud, bi woman, heteronormativity occasionally messes with my head, and no matter how conscious I try to be, I have baggage. If I had been more confident in my sexuality early on, I would not have tolerated biphobic behavior. I would not have tolerated bi-fetishization either. Don’t get me wrong, as a chronic over-sharer, I love a “teachable moment," but I didn’t have that confidence when I first came out. I didn’t have much confidence dating in general. If I had, I probably would have made a lot of different romantic choices.

Two attractive multi ethnic women in comfy clothes, holding hands and locking eyes in a large bed together.
Pexels/Gabby K

I still struggle with insecurity, and it’s why I’m slowing down with dating. I need to feel better about myself before facing any more trials and tribulations of the dating scene. I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. I’m actually an optimist. I wholeheartedly believe we are moving towards a more accepting culture. The last fifteen years of my romantic life have, on the whole, been pretty good. And for those of you reading this, I hope that you are happily partnered or happily dating.

But I am tired. I am tired of explaining myself and defending who I am. I’m tired of feeling like a bisexual plaything or jumping into unhealthy relationships. If you are tired, know you are not alone. I finally understand that I need to take care of myself before I can be there for anyone else. And the whole world seems to know it; my newsfeed shows articles like “Why I Quit Dating” and “Self Partnered — What Does It Mean?” While I have made a lot of progress being out and proud of my sexuality, it doesn’t mean all the damage done from internalized homophobia and self-doubt goes away. I am, just as we all are, more than my sexuality, and I need to embrace my whole self. Until that happens, I’ll keep sleeping soundly by myself.

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